


Just For Tonight

by expectingtofly



Series: SPN Stay At Home Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: #SpnStayAtHome | SPN Stay at Home Challenge, Angel Wings, Angst, Coda, Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectingtofly/pseuds/expectingtofly
Summary: Rescuing Castiel from his miserable night, Dean had never seen him look so... drained. So defeated. Not knowing what to do or say, Dean had taken matters into his own hands and done what he knew best. Drive. He’d taken long, winding roads out of town, found the highway, and headed east. He’d passed exits for motels, ignored the flashing lightning and the thick clouds crowding out the stars, the rumbling thunder. Didn’t speak, just drove. And then the clouds had let loose a sudden outpouring, smothering the faint moonlight.Taking place in Season 9 Episode 6, Dean rescues Castiel from his failed date/babysitting job and they go for a drive in the night, trying to come to terms with Castiel's newfound humanity.Week 7 in the SPN Stay At Home Challenge, prompt: "Thunderstorm"
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN Stay At Home Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749871
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Just For Tonight

“Shit, I can’t see a damn thing.” Dean leaned forward as if getting closer to the windshield would help him see better through the dense, dark sleet of rain pounding the highway outside.

He glanced at Castiel but the angel—no, human, he had to keep reminding himself—didn’t speak, only stared out the window. He’d been silent the whole drive since Dean rescued him from his failed date/babysitting job. Dean wanted to ask if he was alright, but that seemed a ridiculous question. Of course he wasn’t.

Wind blew a smattering of rain onto the windshield and, giving up driving in such a storm, Dean eased Baby to the right of the highway, headlights illuminating the white line marking the border to the shoulder. 

They sat there silently for a moment, he and Castiel, staring out the windshield at the night, at the steady stream of water pouring from the heavens, thick lines like hippy strings of beads hanging over a doorway. 

Rescuing Castiel from his miserable night, Dean had never seen him look so...drained. So defeated. Not knowing what to do or say, Dean had taken matters into his own hands and done what he knew best. Drive. He’d taken long, winding roads out of town, found the highway, and headed east. He’d passed exits for motels, ignored the flashing lightning and the thick clouds crowding out the stars, the rumbling thunder. Didn’t speak, just drove. And then the clouds had let loose a sudden outpouring, smothering the faint moonlight.

Dean tapped the steering wheel in a staccato mimicking the rain and glanced at Castiel, who sat slumped against the door, his head resting on the window. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Castiel sit without ramrod posture and at the sight a fear surged in him, a fear which had settled in the pit of his stomach when he first saw Castiel working in the gas station.

Castiel was still wearing the same jeans and white shirt he’d been wearing then and the unfamiliarity of his outfit only increased Dean’s worry that he didn’t know _this_ Castiel, that this newly human Castiel was someone else entirely than angel Castiel. Dean stared back out the windshield.

“Wish you had your wings so you could zap us out of this storm,” he said. He was struck by a flash of regret at “wings,” but the rest of the words fell off too fast to stop them. _Fuck._ He clenched the steering wheel and waited for human Castiel to...he didn’t know what. Curse him out, leave the car and disappear in the storm, tell him to shut up and think for once, for one goddamn moment, before he spoke. 

But Castiel only said, very much like his matter-of-fact angel-self, “They would be very convenient right now.” He shifted, hunching his shoulders slightly as if remembering what used to rest on them.

Dean wished Castiel still had his wings just so he could zap away and leave Dean to his self-loathing. He was always saying the wrong things, imagined a scale in Castiel’s mind with one side labeled “Reasons to Put Up With Dean,” and the other, “Reasons to Leave Dean’s Bullshit.” The scales were tipping dangerously now. 

Trying to change the subject, Dean tapped the window to his left. “Sam and I would play this game when we were kids where we’d race the raindrops on our windows.”

Castiel pulled his head from the window to look at him, his head tilted in the “I don’t understand” manner of his. So human Castiel still did that. 

Dean tried to explain. “We’d each choose a raindrop.” He pointed to a raindrop resting at the top of the window. “And whoever’s reached the bottom of the window first won.” He traced the raindrop’s course as it slipped down the window and broke at the bottom, turning into a trickle.

“But there’s no skill involved,” Castiel said, sitting up. “The winner wins entirely by chance.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. It’s just some game kids play when they’re bored to death on a long car ride.”

Castiel sighed and sunk into his seat. “I suppose I should start learning more about human things, the games they play.” He sounded so sad about the prospect that Dean didn’t say anything else, figuring he couldn’t make things worse if he kept his mouth shut. He fiddled with the heat controls, caught the low whine of the heat turning on and pouring through the vents.

Castiel crossed his arms. “Do I…” He stared out the windshield. The rain struck the hood of the car so fiercely it seemed likely to dent. “Do I seem different to you without my wings or powers?”

“No,” Dean answered quickly because it seemed like the right answer considering the alternative. “Why? Do you feel different?”

Castiel shrugged. “My wings were a part of me. Imagine losing your arm or leg.”

“Oh.” He’d never realized how significant wings were beyond practical use. Castiel had never spoken of them when he was an angel. 

“And without my grace...” Castiel turned his hands palms up and stared at them. The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m essentially a ‘baby in a trench coat,’ as you would say.” 

Dean winced. One of the idiotic things he’d said which threatened to tip Castiel’s scale permanently towards, “Stay Away At All Costs.” 

Plucking at his jeans, Castiel frowned. “I’m not wearing the trench coat anymore though, so I don’t even have that.”

“Cas, I didn’t mean that stupid shit.” Castiel dropped his hands onto his lap. “Besides, I said that a long time ago. You shouldn’t listen to anything I said back then. Shouldn’t listen to any crap I say now if we’re being honest.” 

The rainfall lightened for a moment, then resumed its drubbing. Castiel leaned back against the seat and his shoulders sloped down once again. Dean studied him. If he hadn’t known Castiel was now human, would he have guessed? This Castiel was sadder, quieter, but that wasn’t strictly a human trait. Of course he’d be grieving losing his grace. And he still looked the same, still acted the same...only now there was a somber air about him, a heaviness to his movements. Some smoothness, airiness inherent to an angel, gone. 

Maybe he wouldn't have been able to tell Castiel was human, but he would’ve known _something_ was off. At the same time, though, he would’ve known with certainty that this person sitting next to him was still Castiel, not a possessed body and certainly not Jimmy Novak. Dean knew this because sitting here with Castiel didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable like sitting next to a stranger would. It felt completely natural. 

“Buddy, come on, you’re breaking my heart.” Castiel looked over and Dean gestured to him. “No one thinks any less of you for not having wings or powers. You may not be wearing the trench coat and all, but you’re still you, just without all the bells and whistles.”

God, that was stupid. Why couldn’t he explain anything right? 

But Castiel nodded solemnly. “I suppose that might be true.” 

Maybe his stumbling words had been good enough, at least to outweigh “baby in a trench coat.” Dean smiled at Castiel, which was a mistake, because then Castiel looked at him with those piercing eyes that never ceased to make him weak in the knees. 

Dean swallowed and looked away. He leaned his arm on the window sill, felt the cold from outside seep through his sleeve. Where did he and Castiel stand? After purgatory, he had thought...but they’d never put a name to anything and now with the whole mess with Sam and Ezekial and Metatron—he and Castiel couldn’t be together. Not now.

He’d tried to make that clear. Hadn’t he tried to help Castiel go on a date earlier tonight? And he couldn’t forget that Castiel had slept with that reaper, that bitch who’d then tricked him and tortured him—instinctively Dean clenched his hand into a fist—but, regardless, it seemed Castiel had moved on. And Dean was trying too. Trying being the key word.

“Are you sure I can’t come back to the bunker?” Castiel asked, so quietly Dean almost lost the words in the storm outside. 

He looked at Castiel and hesitated, hoping to find a way to soften his immediate answer. But something in his face must have told Castiel anyway because Castiel sighed and looked out his window.

“I’m sorry, Cas. After Sam is better—”

“I know.” Castiel fiddled with his sleeve. “I just...miss you.”

Dean waited for him to finish the sentence. Miss “you guys” or “you and Sam,” but Castiel let the single you hang in the space between them, suspended between the rattling rain and a crack of thunder.

Dean looked down at his hands. “I miss you too,” he said.

He heard the slide of Castiel’s clothes across the bench seat and saw Castiel’s knee bump his. He raised his eyes and Castiel’s eyes searched his. Dean wondered what Castiel saw in them, how he could gaze for so long. Wondering what they revealed, he nearly drew back, but then Castiel lowered his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him. 

Dean thought about pulling away, telling Castiel he couldn’t, not when he knew that in a few hours he’d have to leave Castiel at that gas station, drive away and leave him standing there to manage being a human alone. But instead he put his hand to Castiel’s face and kissed him back.

Rain pounded the roof and windows around them, making the car seem somehow smaller. Surrounded as they were by dark and rain, they could be anywhere. Baby might be sitting at the bottom of the ocean or settled in one of the dark clouds up in the sky. It didn’t matter when all Dean could think of was Castiel leaning into him.

Castiel slid his hand up Dean’s thigh and now, reluctantly, Dean pulled away. “Cas,” he started, “you know we can’t be together—”

“Just for tonight,” Castiel said and took Dean’s hand, slid his fingers in between Dean’s. Dean looked down at their hands and knew it was selfish. Knew he’d only feel worse leaving Castiel in the morning, knew his resolve would have to be that much stronger to drive away. But for now, he let himself be weak. 

They kissed, again, deeper. Dean touched Castiel’s shirt, the feel all wrong, he wanted the trench coat, but it didn’t matter now anyway because Castiel unbuttoned it and shrugged it off his shoulders, leaving his skin bare to Dean’s hands. He shivered under Dean’s touch and the familiarity of it all swelled in Dean’s chest into something akin to shame. For leaving Castiel time after time, for knowing he’d do it again.

Castiel tugged Dean’s jacket and Dean pulled it off, his elbow hitting the steering wheel. Castiel took it from him and dropped it onto the floor of the car. 

“The backseat,” Castiel said. He clambered over the seatback and Dean followed, feeling almost guilty at how eager Castiel was. He sat heavily on the backseat, drawing his legs over the front seat to the floor. Castiel straddled him and Dean touched his side. “This is new.”

Castiel looked down at the Enochian symbols inked across his skin. “Now the angels can’t find me.”

Another reminder that he was human. Dean took Castiel’s face in his hands and lifted it to look in his eyes. There wasn’t anything he could say, so he kissed him instead and hoped that might be enough. 

…

Dean held Castiel close, warm, bare skin against his, and they lay and listened to the rain slowing, drops hitting Baby less intensely, more sporadically, than its former constant drumming. Thunder rumbled low in the distance and then it was quiet save for stray rain drops smacking the roof and the low hum of Baby’s engine. 

Castiel lay with his back against Dean’s chest and Dean felt the rise and fall of his breathing. Looking out the opposite window, he was relieved to see it was still dark outside. They still had a few hours.

He pushed his nose into Castiel’s hair, breathed in the scent of him. Maybe there was something else essentially angel that was gone now that Castiel was human. Not that sex with him wasn’t as incredible as always, but Castiel felt more vulnerable now. More mortal, if that was something that could even _be_ sensed. Dean had never worried so much about Castiel before. Living on his own, working, meeting people. If the events earlier tonight had proven anything, it was that Castiel was still woefully unsuited to being human.

Castiel shifted, lifted his head from Dean’s arm and looked out the window above their heads. Dean thought he was going to comment on the rain stopping, but he reached out and tapped a spot high up on the window. “That one’s mine.”

Dean tilted his head back and looked at the rain speckled glass. “This one.” He pushed himself onto his elbow and pointed to a drop, his hand bumping Castiel’s. 

They watched as the raindrops meandered down the window, Dean’s hitting another drop and gaining speed, then changing course, turning to the side, and slowing. Dean tapped the glass to shake his raindrop from its reverie and Castiel pushed his hand away. He pointed at his raindrop inching to the edge of the window. It disappeared from view. “Mine won!”

“You cheated,” Dean said, smiling at Castiel’s genuine excitement. 

“I did not. You’re the one who tried to cheat.” He settled back down and Dean rested his head on the door. He looked at Castiel, dreading when they’d have to part in the morning. Pushing it from his mind, he traced his finger over Castiel’s back, between his shoulder blades. Castiel shivered a little and Dean wondered if that’s where his wings had sprouted, wished he had shown more interest in them when Castiel still had them.

“What did your wings look like?” he asked. Castiel looked up at him and he added hastily, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to—”

“I don’t mind.” Castiel shifted on the seat, the leather squeaking. “It’s hard to explain in non-angelic terms.” He was silent for a moment. “I suppose they would’ve looked black to you, and shiny.”

“With feathers and everything?”

Castiel nodded. “You’ve seen, in a way, when I’ve shown you their shadow.”

“Like when we first met and you were showing off.” 

Castiel smiled. “Yes, like then.”

A car passed them on the highway, first a whirring, then a spray of water smacking Baby’s windows. 

“We should get going,” Dean said, trying to sound indifferent, as if he wasn’t always the one putting a stop to moments like this, pushing Castiel away when that was the complete opposite of what he knew they both wanted.

Castiel nodded, his hand resting heavily on Dean’s stomach. Light from a passing car shone through the window and spotted Castiel’s skin with raindrop shadows.

“Dean.”

“Yes?”

“Even if I had my wings, I wouldn’t have “zapped” us away out of the storm.” His fingers raised momentarily to make air quotes and Dean smiled a little. Angel or human, he was still undeniably Castiel. “I would’ve wanted to stay here with you.” Castiel ran a finger over Dean’s chest. “I wouldn’t mind being human if it was always like this.”

Dean blinked quickly at the sudden sting of tears. _Dammit, Cas_ , he thought. How could he leave this very sad, very human Castiel? When everything, his very identity, had been taken from him? But Dean had to. 

He tried to reason with himself that this was for Castiel’s benefit: Castiel was human now; he didn’t have to be entangled in Winchester problems. But Dean saw the scale tipping out of his favor. 

Leaning down, he kissed the top of Castiel’s head and knew it wasn’t enough. Castiel wrapped his arms around him, pressed his forehead to his chest, and with a deep regret, Dean let himself settle into this moment for a little longer, let himself pretend nothing existed beyond this moment, beyond the rain-streaked, fogged windows and warmth of Castiel’s embrace, the touch of their rain-freckled skin. 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to write my version of the Missing HoursTM of s9e6 but that's where the story took me so here we are. Thanks so much for reading and feel free to leave a comment below, I'd love to hear what you thought :)
> 
> you can find [my tumblr here](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/)


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